


Coming Home

by SassyOrlesian



Series: Fenris and Hawke's Family [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family Bonding, Guilt, Hawke is still learning how to mom, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyOrlesian/pseuds/SassyOrlesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke arrives home from her adventures at Adamant, and Fenris has a few words to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This, like my other work(s) is un-beta'd. Please point out any errors to me in the comments!

Hawke wearily pushed the door of the cabin in, shutting it softly behind her. She looked around, noting the presence of Fenris' sword. He was home then. The fire was still crackling strong in the fireplace, suggesting that it was lit recently. Listening, she could hear the elf's voice in their son's room, and could barely make out the words of Malcolm's favorite bedtime story. A pang of guilt struck hard in her chest.

Fenris was going to be livid, or devastatingly calm. The latter scared her more. And Hawke knew she deserved every bit of what she got. If the Inquisitor hadn't picked her, if she'd thought rationally and saved Stroud instead... she wasn't going to think about it.

_I am alive, and I get to see my boys again._

The mage lay her staff next to Fenris' great-sword gently, still not quite ready to alert the two to her presence. Hawke unbuckled her armor, laying the pieces on the table to clean later, drawing out every motion. Finally, she tugged off her boots and crept down the hallway, trying to avoid every squeaky board she remembered until she reached Malcolm's-

"Who's there?"

_Well shit, missed one._

Hawke swallowed the lump in her throat, steeling herself. She wasn't a coward, at least not when it came to fighting, but the mage had the emotional capabilities of a walnut. She pushed open the door and put on her best smile- it wouldn't fool Fenris, but for little Mal...

Fenris' eyes widened, his arm still stretched protectively in front of their son, who as soon as he could see her, slipped out from underneath said arm and threw himself at Hawke's legs. She reached down to pat his head, ruffling his dark curls and letting her smile fall. He'd gotten bigger, she'd missed his fourth birthday, and she almost let him grow up without his mother. Fenris, for his part, was looking at her with unreadable eyes. After a moment of staring at each other stupidly, he stood, walking over to her.

"He has missed you."

She laughed weakly at that, noticing her pants were wet where Malcolm's face was pressed against them. There was another strong tug at her heartstrings.

"N-no kidding. I-"

Shit, don't you dare start crying, Hawke.

With eyes starting to water, she picked up Malcolm, who was struggling not to sob himself. The boy managed to get out a garbled "Ma" before wrapping his arms around her and crying his little eyes out. She held him close, eyes locked with her lover's. The elf gestured to their son's bed, where she sat, still holding the crying child. Mal never cried, he was tough, like his parents, but he was near inconsolable now. After a moment Fenris left the room, leaving her with questions, but it was probably for the best. He needed to process this in his own way, as much as Mal needed to cry it out.

"Your ma's here now, Mal. I'm not going anywhere ever again."  
Hawke bit her tongue, she knew she shouldn't make promises she couldn't keep, but that terrible habit she had of speaking before thinking was hard to break.

After some time, the crying stopped, and she looked down to see that he was asleep, snotty nosed and ruddy cheeked. Hawke wiped his nose with a dry part of her tunic, gently laying the boy down and tucking him back in. She looked at him for a long time. His curls had gone past his ears, he hadn't gotten a haircut, she'd have to do that in the morning. His nose was more pronounced, just like his father's, and he could have discovered his magic while she was gone, or he didn't. She'd have to ask Fenris.

_Oh Maker, Fenris._

The thought of leaving Fenris alone, having to raise a mage child on his own... They had talked about it, and he certainly wouldn't love their son any less, but Mal would need a teacher. If she couldn't be the one to do it, he'd have to join up with Merrill's clan, or Maker forbid, he'd have to find Anders. Just the thought made her anxious. Those two together, even though Justice had since been reigned in by time and practice, would lead to ruin.

In the moment, the choice between her and Stroud had seemed so easy. Her life, for the greater good-and she still didn't agree with the choice the Inquisitor made, but now she was torn with guilt because she was so able to leave her son, Fenris... he might have understood, but not little Mal. If there was a demon of guilt, she was sure it'd be feeding right now.

The mage paused at the thought... She would have to look into that.

Hawke lost track of how much time she had spent avoiding Fenris, but it was time to face him. She couldn't deny she had though about him all too often. Seeing him again would have gone quite in a different direction had their son not been in the room. The wall pinning, lip biting, clothes ripping direction, if she let herself think hopefully. The mage shook her head furiously to clear her thoughts.

Marian left Malcolm to his rest, closing the door softly behind her, and opened the door across from it, leading into her and Fenris' shared room. It was much like she left it, except instead of a sleeping elf on her bed, he was reading a book and looked up at her with those same unreadable eyes from before. After a few tense moments, she spoke.

"Do you speak first, or do I speak first? I'm not quite sure how these reunions work. We've done everything together for the past decade so-"

"Varric sent a letter ahead." He said, interrupting her babbling.  
"I did not expect you back so soon."

_Thank the Maker for Varric Tethras!_

He closed his book, setting it down before coming to face her. She immediately averted her gaze, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"You did not trust me not to follow you."

It was a statement, not a question.

"No."

"I will not lie. I would have."

She looked up at him. Upon closer examination, the unreadable expression on his face was a fragile mask. His jaw was taut, the muscles there straining. Without thinking, she raised her hand to touch his face, and in an instant, her wrist was in his vice-like grip. They stared at each other for a moment, his brow furrowed, obviously trying not to be angry. They've grown, both of them, past the pointless arguments, and past the misunderstandings, but she'd hurt him. It was written painfully across his face now.

"Fenris. I am so _so_  sorry."

The fingers around her wrist clenched tighter, not enough to hurt, but close to it.

"You are allowed to protect me, but I am not allowed to protect you?" He bit out. There goes his control.

"You know you would have done the same thing if you were in my place." She quipped, not yet struggling against his hold.

"I would no-" He was cut off by her raised eyebrow, and he sighed, the grip on her wrist loosening.

"I've told you before that I cannot bear the thought of living without you, fool woman."

He was still looking at her, never one to shy away from her, not once he had figured her out. Maker's breath, just that slight twinge of disapproval, mixed with all the feelings they never seemed to speak. It did things to her. Things like make her kick herself mentally, and make her think that she loved him more than anything in Thedas, with the exception of their son. They weren't even married, because such formal declarations of love weren't needed between them... and big shindigs were not in their nature. However, now was a good time to voice those feelings, on her part.

"I love you Fenris. I'm an idiot, but I'm your idiot."

The corner of his mouth twitched at that, and all of the sudden she was caught in a firm embrace, tunic covered in snot and sweat, all her travel weary glory ignored. Before she was able to let out even a gasp, his mouth was firmly pressed against hers, his tongue entwining with her own in a way that never failed to make her whole body shudder. One of his hands pinned her wrists behind her as he pressed her against the hard planes of his body, and he continued to absolutely _claim_ her for a few seconds before pulling back to fix her with a glare.

"This conversation is not over." he said archly, his eyes heated, but somehow still rebuking her. Only he could achieve that.

"I'm not that much of a fool." She replied, wry smile tugging at her lips at the same time she tugged him towards the bed, she needed him as much as he needed her right now, words could wait.

"I wouldn't dare hope."


	2. Fenris and Hawke have words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are words to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, please don't hesitate to point out any grammatical errors in the comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Hawke woke with the most unpleasant taste in her mouth, and suddenly she could really, truly, smell the road on her naked body. Underneath that was the smell of home, of Mal and Fenris, but she wondered if the two of them had any sense of smell at all, by not throwing her out on her ass last night. She blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, looking around to make sure the coast was clear before hopping out of bed. Fenris was, of course, awake before her. He needed a minimum of four hours of sleep, she suspected it had something to do with the lyrium and his naturally strong metabolism, while to her frustration, she could easily be out past midday. Luckily today was not one of those days, Fenris was not a patient man. Looking around, the room was empty, save for their usual clutter. She could hear their son's muffled chatter out in the living room, an occasional noise of acknowledgement from Fenris.

Marian bathed with little ceremony, humming a song she heard in Skyhold's tavern, even though she would certainly wish to- but there was no way they didn't hear her splashing about in here. No one could hide forever. Hawke had certainly tried, hiding from that seeker, but look where that got her. She pulled on a faded red tunic and pair of breeches, striding out of her room with purpose, purpose that was almost completely lost as she skidded to a halt in front of Fenris and Malcolm. The scene was heartbreakingly domestic. Something she still marveled at whenever she saw it.  
They left the log cabin in Rivain not long after the annulment of Dairsmund, traveling southwest to the borderlands of Tevinter and Nevarra. Their home was now a safe Haven for escaped slaves, helping them get on their feet and killing any slavers who followed. That was the business she left before Varric had sent her that grim message saying that Corypheus had returned. 

Fenris was sitting on one of their worn sofas, tending to his greatsword, while Malcolm was playing on the rug with Stanley, her ever patient mabari, who chuffed in acknowledgement as she entered. Fenris paused, eyes snapping to hers, and Marian gulped audibly. Nope, she was not out of the woods yet. 

"Malcolm, take the dog outside, your mother and I need to speak about her extended absence." he said, and the boy looked between them, nodding without really understanding, as he and the old mabari went out to the front of the house to play.

"The way you speak with him, it's like you're talking to someone three times his age. Pretty soon he'll start speaking formally and I'll have two serious men in my house. My mother would be proud." She said, teasing at first, but mentioning her mother was still a sore spot.

"I have no doubt Leandra's disapproval of me teaching him how to hold a blade at the age of three would outweigh how well spoken he is, but you are attempting to change the subject." 

The elf put aside his sword, on the couch, like it belonged there, and approached her pensively. It was like he was afraid she would bolt. Well, she didn't bolt last night, but Fenris really hadn't given her the chance then either. In fact, he hardly let her sleep-

Her attention was brought back to the present by Fenris clearing his throat, his brow raised. It was if he could read her thoughts. 

"Varric practically sent me an outline for one of his books." He said, forced casualness in his tone.

"He is a storyteller. Would you expect any less from our beardless friend?" Maker, what she would give to see just how much that dwarf told him.

"You fought a Magister." His tone was accusatory, and she noticed the tick in his jaw, but other than that he remained calm. Calm as the air before a storm, maybe. 

"He was a real prick, and I didn't fight him directly, more like the Inquisitor did something fancy with her hand and he ran away."

"The Magister that tricked all those Wardens, tricked them into using blood magic on each other..." Ah, now that's a tone she hadn't heard in a long while; acrid and biting. Just like old times. "Could they really be so foolish?"

"Fenris, you're preaching to the choir. Trust me, I was furious with Stroud. If Carver was there, he could have died."

That didn't seem to assuage him, however. He started to pace in front of her, and she leaned back against the wall, watching him warily. 

"Varric told me you went into the fade, physically. That the Inquisitor, she opened up a hole in the air after a dragon collapsed the platform you were standing on." 

He was obviously struggling to stay calm for her sake, but he was furious with her. She could tell by the way he drove her into the bed last night... and against the wall. _Maker_ , not even a day back and that's all she could think about? Six months away was apparently six months too many. 

"Well we didn't march into the Black City, no."

He swore under his breath, looking at her like she'd grown another head.

"So it is true? Venhedis, woman. The danger you get into. What if it had been the black city? What if you came back with the blight, or didn't come back at all?"

Marian dodged around his pacing, moving to pick up the toys Malcolm left on the floor in desperation for something to do with her hands.

"What ifs are pointless, Fenris. I am here, alive and not even a bit blighted, I promise." 

She wondered what else that traitorous dwarf mentioned in his letter, if he was going into such detail. He didn't have to say it to Fenris directly, like she did, but if he mentioned what came next? She didn't know if she could survive him knowing that, and she wasn't sure if him forgiving her scared her more than never forgiving her did.

"I was... worried. I am not accustomed to being so worried for your life." He said, dark brows furrowing impossibly further.

He didn't know, but now that she thought of it, how could he? Varric may not even know. She let out a relieved breath, getting off the floor and fixing him with her best smile, "Not even during the fight with Meredith? Or giving birth to our son? Come now, Fenris. Surely we get into enough trouble that you've been that afraid maybe once or twice?"

"The fight with Meredith, you regularly rained fire upon half the gallows courtyard while cackling like a madwoman, and Anders wouldn't let you die, upon pain of his own death." He replied blandly, stopping his pacing in front of her.

Most of that last year in Kirkwall was a bit of a blur, but he _definitely_ made up the cackling part. Hawke opened her mouth to deny it, but he spoke again,

"My point being, I have more often than not been at your side. To make sure of your safety." He said, almost too quietly for her to make out. It sent another uncomfortable pang of guilt surging through her chest.

Damn it all, he was trying to destroy her, with all this guilt. This silly, improbable love he has for her. She's not even that great of a person, and not that great of a mother either. Hawke closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him like a vice and burying her face in his neck. After a moment, his hands came to rest on her hips.

"You are attempting to distract me again." He said, rubbing circles with his thumbs. Because _she's_ distracting.

"Mmph." Hawke is, above all, eloquent, and after a moment, Fenris pulled back to look at her face. 

"I am... glad you are back."

Hawke broke into a grin, giving a weak laugh, "Just glad? Come now, Fenris."

A smirk slanted across his face, and he kissed her brow. "More than glad, Marian." As soon as the smirk appeared, it was gone, replaced with a stern look. "Don't run off again."

Hawke didn't know if she could promise that in good conscience, but unless something as dire as Corypheus called for her attention, she figured she could stay.

"I'll try my hardest not to." She said with what she hoped was a convincing grin. After a moment he sighed, about to say something more when Mal and Stanley came charging in, covered in mud, and soaking wet.

"We found an ant pile, and some shiny rocks," The boy said excitedly, oblivious to the situation, "Then it started to rain!" and before either Fenris or Hawke could object, Stanley shook himself off on all three of them, prompting giggling, groaning, and Tevene curse or two before Fenris could stop himself. The boy wasn't that much dirtier, but the freshly clean Hawke, Fenris, and their living room were partially wet and muddy. Stanley looked rather pleased with himself at officially ending Fenris and Marian's conversation, and plodded off to his bed to lick himself while the warrior and mage were still wiping the muck off their faces.

Hawke was the first to recover, laughing, but at Fenris' stern glance she tossed a half-hearted "bad dog" after her mabari. The elf flicked mud onto the floor, moving into the kitchen to grab a wash towel while Hawke scooped up their messy son in her arms. 

"We need another bath, little man, and you need a haircut." she said, attempting to wipe some mud from his face, but only smudging it. Malcolm pouted, but didn't put up his normal fight. She hoped time had matured him somewhat. Engaging in a wresting match before bath-time was getting harder as he grew. She moved to Fenris and her shared room, putting her son down as she entered. He watched her fill the tub with her elemental magic, long used to the oddity of it. She was content to be silent, but Malcolm had other ideas, curiosity finally overtaking him. 

"Ma, where'd you go? What is the Inky... the Ink-"

"The Inquisition? Hop in the bath and I'll tell you." There was some more grumbling before he was finally in the tub, and he looked at her expectantly. "You see, it all started when your Uncle Carver and I had our blood stolen by crazy dwarves..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Hawke explains the Inquisiton to a four year old.


End file.
